Jack began to tap the screen of the monitor. He stopped, facing ground zero. The tips of his fingers tapped faster as he ran through an analysis. According to these readings, it had been a regular explosion heightened in some manner.
Jack blinked in shock at the readings on the device. This meant—
I’m not going to die from radiation poisoning.
Instead of laughter or any other sign of relief, Jack’s features hardened with resolve. He had to leave the area before anyone came to inspect the blast. Clutching the straps of his pack, he walked away.
Why did the advisor order us to destroy the surveillance drone and deactivate Carter’s optics?
Jack took a deep breath of hot desert air. Then, he increased the pace and length of his stride. He had to reach the oasis. He had to figure out how an Iranian arms dealer was connected with D’erlon Enterprises in France. More than ever, he believed Hammond carried antimatter. Why would anyone take possibly the greatest treasure on the planet to an Egyptian hellhole?
-38-
UNDERGROUND CHAMBER
SIWA OASIS
Selene jerked her head because of an awful smell. She felt woozy and disoriented, not knowing where she was or what had happened to her.
She sat up groggily, rubbing the bottom of her nose and making a face. Had someone put smelling salts under her nose? Frowning, she tried to remember what had happened to her.
A gun, she told herself, slowly recollecting. He pointed it at me and—
Selene squeezed her eyelids together, realizing something was wrong with her vision. The clerk, who was actually the Old Man she’d talked to on the phone, had shot her with his gun. Only, the gun hadn’t contained bullets but a dart. She recalled looking down at her blouse, at the feathered dart sticking out of her.
The man had jumped up, stepping around the table as she’d slumped unconscious. Now, Selene felt discomfort. Her panties were bunched wrong and her blouse—
I’m not wearing my suit jacket anymore.
Selene opened her eyes, willing away the blurriness. Her head hurt. She felt groggy—
“What did you do to me?” she slurred, her words making her wince.
“Try to relax,” he told her. “If you’ll notice, there’s a glass of water and a pill on the table in front of you.”
She swept her forearm over the table in one fluid motion, knocking something flying. A second later, glass shattered against a wall as shards tinkled onto the steel floor.
“That was foolish,” he said. “The pill would have helped you recover quicker.”
Selene wasn’t sure if that was true. The bastard had drugged her, though, and removed her clothing. She didn’t feel as if he had done anything to further violate her, though.
“I drugged you because I had to check to make sure you were safe. I asked if you wore a wire, testing your reaction. It was also possible that they had put a bug on you. I had to know before I could proceed, although I apologize for any inconvenience.”
“You took off my clothes!”
“It was a repugnant chore, believe me. I took no joy in it.”
Selene rubbed her eyes. She could vaguely make him out sitting across the table from her.
“How about returning my jacket and gun,” she said.
He made a tsking sound. “Our time is limited. While you were unconscious, an explosion occurred in the desert. It must have been a powerful blast for me to hear it down here. It is my belief they are nearing something so important that they are willing to move more openly than they have for ages.”
“I want my gun,” Selene said.
“Don’t you realize I could have left you here in this chamber? You would have soon died of thirst.”
Selene rubbed her eyes. She needed to use her wits. The reality of this chamber under the Temple of Ammon was fantastic. Where did the three hatches lead? What did this place’s existence mean anyway? Who was this mysterious man to have access to all this?
“Why did you bring me here?” Selene asked.
“Good. You’re thinking again. I expected nothing less of you.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Very well,” he said. “I am a direct descendent of the priests of Ammon. Not in a literal blood relationship, mind you. That would be impossible. The priests did not engage in animal rutting. The mere idea would have made any acolyte nauseous. Alas, I am the last of that illustrious line for reasons I do not wish to relate to you, a meat-eater and a practitioner of sexual relations. The point is that I remember the old legends, the ancient stories of the truth as told to those of Ammon.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Selene said. “I don’t want to hear about ancient whatever. That’s immaterial to this place. Look around you. We’re in metallic chamber with working lights, or a form of lighting.”
“I realize that.”
“Where do those hatches lead? What’s causing the hum? We should investigate.”
He shook his head.
“Have you gone through those hatches before?” Selene wished she’d explored the dome when she’d had the opportunity. Could these be similar places?
“I have brought you here to lend credence to my story.” The clerk drummed his fingers on the table.
Selene’s vision came into greater focus. Her .38 was near his hand with her jacket folded on the floor.
“Have you ever heard the tale of Cambyses?” he asked.
“Cambyses, son of Cyrus the Conqueror?” she asked.
“Exactly,” he said. “Cambyses invaded Egypt long ago, and he sent an army fifty thousand strong to destroy the oracle. She appeared then just as the oldest tales said she would in times of trouble.”
“What do you mean ‘she’? Who is this she?”
“Ah,” he said. “That is the right question.”
Selene was beginning to wonder if the clerk was nuts. If it weren’t for this chamber, she’d think him a lunatic.
“As the Persian army marched to Ammonium, she told the priests of Ammon to pray for her. Then, she went into the desert, meeting the army. As she had done many times before, she bewitched the commander. Her advice led the man and thus his army astray. The legends tell of her wisdom, her capacity to know the weather well in advance of others. She led the army into a colossal sandstorm that devoured the host. She slipped away during the storm’s height, her task completed. Her ability to survive where others died was and is among her most fantastic powers.”
“That’s quite the tale,” Selene said, her patience growing thin. “You should write it in a book and put it on Amazon.”
He scowled. “The story doesn’t end there. She went to Egypt and insinuated herself with Cambyses. There, she slipped maddening drugs into the Persian’s wine. Her whispered words drove him insane so he stabbed the Apsis bull, turning Egypt against him. Because of her, Cambyses lost the Persian throne. It was her punishment for his daring to threaten her oracle.”
“Okay,” Selene said. “That’s a story, all right. But first, who is she and second, what does any of this have to do with now?”
The clerk no longer looked at Selene, but sat with a faraway stare in his eyes.
“Almost two hundred years later,” he said in a soft voice, “Alexander the Great came to the oracle.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with—?”
“She appeared at the oracle then, too,” the clerk said, slapping the table, staring at Selene. “She took the high priest’s place, going out to meet the great conqueror. She spoke the words that turned Alexander’s mind. I imagine it served her purposes to bring a new mode of thought to the ancient world, one of universal brotherhood. She did it through the arrogant Macedonian, using his amazing conquests for her own ends.”
“Wait a minute,” Selene said. “There’s a problem with your story. According to the legend, a priest, a man, spoke to Alexander, not a woman.”
“You speak of trifles,” the clerk said, snapping his fingers. “She disguised herself as a man, do
n’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see. Cambyses sent his army in 525 BC and Alexander came in 331. That’s a difference of 193 years. I hope you’re not suggesting this woman lived over 200 years.”
The clerk laughed bleakly, shaking his head. “How small your mind is that you fail to perceive what I’ve been suggesting. In some fashion, and for reasons beyond my understanding, Ammon touched her in the beginning. Our god granted her eternal life. She has passed through history as a shadow, affecting the affairs of men for reasons of her own. Once, I thought she must be doing Ammon’s bidding…” The clerk shook his head. “I no longer believe that. I think she tricked Ammon, using the god. Why otherwise did the oracle fade away? Why hasn’t she restored the temple to its former glory? It must be within her power to do so.”
Selene stared at the man. Claire could dig up the craziest people sometimes. The man had more than a screw loose. He thought Ammon was real and granted eternal life like an Arabian Night’s genie granting wishes to one who rubbed his lamp.
There had to be a reasonable explanation for the metal walls and the lights. This didn’t have anything to do with the underwater dome. Sure, there was a hum here, but the clerk was a lunatic. He happened to be a dangerous one, and he had her down here in a hidden vault with her senses dulled from his dart.
What’s the best way to play this?
“Can you prove any of what you’re saying?” Selene asked.
“No! I can’t prove a thing.” The clerk worried his lower lip with his teeth. “I’ll tell you this, though. In the old days, a few of the priests of Ammon began to suspect her of disloyalty to the god. The few initiated into the mystery chronicled her actions across the centuries, one carefully chosen priest after another. The last of them to do so buried a scroll in a hidden place. I found the manuscript twenty years ago. At first, I was like you, scoffing at the possibility. Oh yes, you’re not fooling me in the slightest. I can read the disbelief in your eyes. You think I’m mad to say these things.”
The clerk shrugged. “That is the way of small-minded people. I understand all too well. I hoped since you were Claire’s friend that you would be different.” He shrugged again. “When I first found the scroll, I mulled it over for many months. My laughter concerning its tale died when a strange dream began to plague me. After I accepted her existence and the reality of her immortality, I began to piece together other legend. Finally, I went to the Mountain of Alamut in what is now a part of Iran. What I found in the ruins of the Assassins opened my eyes to the existence of a shadowy organization moving through time, attempting a purpose I do not begin to understand. I also spoke to the Old Man of the Mountains there. His words were revealing and uplifting. It is why I began calling myself the Old Man once I returned home to Siwa.”
The man smiled sadly. “I have continued to search for understanding, but carefully so I didn’t alert them or much worse, her. What you hinted at over the phone—I wondered if you could give me another clue to the greater puzzle. Perhaps once you tell me your story, the truth will shine more brightly on her, revealing just a little more.”
“I don’t see how—”
“Listen to me,” he said. His face was shiny with perspiration and his eyes had become like burning coals.
Selene sat very still.
The clerk touched the .38 with the palm of his left hand. At the same time, his sad smile trembled.
“We have little time left,” he said.
Selene nodded, wondering what to do.
Before she could decide, an explosion interrupted her thoughts. Metal crumpled and tore, and stone from the other side blasted into the chamber. One of the bigger pieces struck the clerk’s head, catapulting the man off the chair onto the floor.
Selene sat across from the clerk, out of the direct-line-of-blast and killing stones. She saw the clerk skid across the floor. Stone fragments ricocheted against the far wall, sprinkling against the dead clerk and the floor. Smoke billowed. Then, a massive man walked through the smoke.
He was huge like a power lifter, standing at least six-six. The soldier wore goggles, a helmet and body armor. He reminded her of the man in the speedboat in the Indian Ocean who had been searching for her.
Selene didn’t scream, but she realized she had to act now, this very moment, or—
She lunged across the table for the .38, grabbed it, aimed and pulled the trigger. The shock to her hand and the loud sound startled her.
The bullet struck his vest, slowing him just enough so Selene got off a second shot. This one ploughed through his throat. Before she could pull the trigger a third time, he swung his right arm. The gloved hand dealt her a savage buffet across the side of the head, knocking her off the chair as the .38 tumbled from her hand. He stood hunched over, panting, with blood pouring down his neck, soaking the body armor. Selene lay on the floor, dizzy from his blow.
“Stupid, bitch,” he said, in an impossibly deep voice.
Selene willed her body to move. Dazed numbness had stolen her strength. She had the desire but not the ability.
“If the old priest hadn’t bought it—” The soldier’s eyelids fluttered. One of his knees gave out, but he caught himself on the edge of the table. It had been secured to the floor in some manner.
While Selene watched from the floor, the soldier lost his grip. He toppled in what seemed like slow motion, hitting with a clatter of body armor.
I have to get up now.
Although her head throbbed, Selene concentrated on dragging herself to a sitting position. With a slow but steady effort, she managed to stand. With her head pounding worse than ever, she staggered until she clutched the table. Carefully, she stepped over the soldier’s prone body. She panted as perspiration soaked her garments.
Think fast, Selene.
She staggered to the wall, retrieving her gun and suit jacket. Then, as she passed the table, she picked up the clerk’s notebook. Maybe he hadn’t been totally mad after all. His shadowy people must be the same as those from the Indian Ocean. This was horrible. They had found her.
Taking what she hoped was a calming breath, Selene stepped through the jagged opening. She had to escape before the soldier recovered and captured her.
-39-
SIWA DESERT
EGYPT
Jack stopped, cocking his head. He heard sirens wail in the far distance.
It’s about bloody time.
He staggered several more steps, coming within the shadows of a large boulder. He crouched, leaning against the large stone.
Sweat soaked his clothes, drying almost as fast as it oozed from his pores. He’d been drinking bottled water for the last half hour. By the watch’s count, he’d already made four miles, having a mere six more to go.
He shook his final water bottle, deciding to save it for later.
At that point, his watch buzzed. Jack raised and tapped it. What he saw almost made him grin. Carter was alive. The man had turned on his tracker, a piece of hardware injected into each D17 agent’s body.
“Let’s see where you are,” Jack whispered.
He tapped the watch a bit more, nodding. Carter was at the Siwa Oasis. For several seconds, Jack studied the signal. It had stopped moving. He waited longer. There wasn’t any more movement whatsoever. Could Hammond have reached a safe house or some other secure location at the oasis?
Jack scanned the horizon. In the far distance dots of vehicles roared along the lonely road. The trucks, jeeps or cars were impossible to make out as exact models, but he had no doubt they belonged to the Ninth Egyptian Border Regiment.
Could the border regiment have any linkage with Hammond or the D’erlon people? Where are you going with the antimatter, you bastard?
Jack shuffled around so the boulder hid him from the army vehicles on the road. He stood with a grunt. The sun was hotter than before and getting worse by the minute. He hesitated reentering the sunlight.
Part of him debated staying here until nightfall. A six-mile hike in this he
at was going to exhaust him. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.
Then Jack thought about Terrell, Phelps and Mrs. King. He put his baseball cap onto his sweaty head and walked into the sunlight.
Sand shifted under his boots. The heat bounced off the ground to bake him. It was like walking in an oven. He yearned for the air-conditioned comfort of the Chief Cherokee. He wanted to close his gritty eyes. Just a few hours of sleep, a cool pool, some watermelon—
Jack pushed the thoughts aside. He needed to plan. He had a gun, his wrist-monitor, a knife, cash, compass, an AT4 and enough food concentrates to last him for days.
What would he do once he reached the oasis? How likely could he rent a car? Stealing one might be dangerous. Possibly, he could pick up a bicycle or motorcycle. Then what would he do? The enemy had stayed a step ahead of him all along the line.
He had to get Carter. If the advisor was compromised… Jack had to get Carter and leave Egypt, maybe get back to Rome. If he did that, though, the antimatter would disappear.
Jack used the sleeve of his shirt, wiping his forehead. He looked up, seeing a vulture soar up there, pacing him. Did the—
Jack shaded his eyes from the sun. Farther away in the distance was a helicopter. Did it belong to the Ninth Border Regiment, to Hammond’s people or to the people using the Iranian—D’erlon Enterprises?
That had to be the answer. Hammond was obviously a front. Okay. What should he do about the helo?
Jack watched it, finally deciding he needed an edge. The only way he could get one was to trick them. That was assuming it belonged to the opposition, which he was going to assume all right.
This would be a long shot.
Jack dropped to his knees. Before he completed the illusion, he took out the last water bottle. He poured the cool liquid over his head and soaked the front of his shirt. Only then did he fall onto the burning sand.
Now came the hard part. Jack waited. Several minutes later, he heard the machine. The heat baked him as the helicopter got louder and louder. Now, it was a roar of sound.
The Eternity Machine Page 15
